Mind's Eye
by ReadingWhiz89
Summary: [Mangaverse] Drabble series centered around Livio the Doublefang as he develops. Spoilers from Trigun Maximum Volume 9 onward.
1. Aimless

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: My first drabble series, centered around Livio the Doublefang as his character develops. Many spoilers inside, from Trigun Maximum Volume 9 onward.

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**_Aimless_**

He wanders into town, his clothes soiled, a mix of dried sweat and dirt smeared on his skin. The suns are merciless, and the heat beats against his brow painfully. Feet scuff the sand tiredly, lacking coordination, but still he presses on. The tattered cloak, frayed at the edges just like him, billows, his only shield against the harsh elements. He raises his head, surveying the seemingly empty spot blemishing the wasteland.

_I'm alone._

By choice, he reminds himself, pulling the cloth tighter about his body. He has no excuses, nor does he try to make them. There are none.


	2. Pain

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: Second installment. Updates will be sporadic, most likely.

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**_Pain_**

Panting breaths, watering eyes, brutal hands, and the taste of dirt are all he knows. Red splatters his front, a knee ramming viciously against his diaphragm, and he chokes, hits the ground hard. A booted heel lifts his chin, makes him meet the disgust and amusement in that gaze. He doesn't resist, is yanked to his feet before a fist swallows his vision.

_Hurts._

Hours later, that word and its manifestation grip him as he tumbles out of the dumpster. A note falls from his pocket, and with shaking hands he unfolds it, reads the name he knows but doesn't.


	3. Blame

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: A little bit of a flashback here.

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_**Blame**_

He can recall with clarity the day they left him there, their soothing words and promises…the contents of shattered glass. Carted from place to place, he tumbled, childlike hope gradually smothered by the cold slap of reality until…

_I found a family…a **home**…_

…all lost when he awoke that morning, his hands encrusted with dried burgundy and fur.

He pauses, nibbling at the meal he salvaged from half-rotten refuse. Suddenly nauseated, he throws it hard against the wall, hears it splatter. Shoulders quaking, he pulls his knees to his chest tightly, head bowed low. But the stigma remains.


	4. Worthless

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: Angst. Lots and lots of angst.

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_**Worthless**_

The beatings, the caustic words, the sense of complete and utter hopelessness all expand, swell painfully, relentlessly within his chest cavity. The days stretch on, spread thin against the unnatural blot of civilization. Even there, he is foreign, an oddity though he doesn't know why. And still the letters come, leaving no impact whatsoever.

_Tired._

Dull eyes flicker, and he stares at the blurred outlines of close buildings before rolling over on his side, limbs reflexively tucked close him to ward off the night's chill, his only comfort. The snap in the air is biting, but he does not respond.


	5. Split

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: Dialogue taken from Maximum7 scanlations instead of the official translation simply because the author can.

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_**Split**_

A fist cracks his jaw, teeth rattling in his skull, and a hand lifts him higher. He blinks through red stinging his eyes, black and blue welts caked with drying blood. His body throbs with unyielding pain, and suddenly, desperately, he wants it all to end.

"_Hey. Are you having fun? You sick fuckers."_

Cloth flutters on the line.

Laughter, soft and maniacal.

Time suspends.

The black doppelganger grins, one eye wide and gleaming, the abusers twisted beyond repair. A hand is clenched lazily in his grasp, a sack of broken flesh and bone.

"_Sorry to keep you waiting…Livio."_


	6. Debt

Disclaimer: Trigun Maximum and Livio the Doublefang belong to the honorable, sometimes-very-lazy Yasuhiro Nightow, not me.

A/N: For the home viewers, I just want to clarify that all _"italics"_ are Lazlo talking and all _'italics'_ are Lazlo speaking inside Livio's head. Normal _italics_ are Livio's thoughts. Also, I will be referring to Livio's insane alter-ego as Lazlo (not Razlo) since Japan does not recognize the "r" sound.

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_**Debt**_

His hands are shaking, and he stares at the red-encrusted palms, turns them over, disbelieving they are his. But sometimes they aren't his…he knows this. He can't escape it. The sensation of being a spectator, of split vision through wide eyes, two minds looking through distorting glass, he knows it all too well. And it hasn't stopped.

_It will never stop…_

'_Idiot. You owe me.'_

Steady fingers slip over the bloodied face of some poor insignificant who dared trifle with them and pull eyelids over the blank, lifeless stare, shoulders quaking with laughter as wet daggers stab his cheeks.


End file.
